


Safe & Sound

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: AU, After the kiss, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4929550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joss survived the shooting, John comes over after a job. p.s: it's smutty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe & Sound

Joss was greeted with the first rays of sunrise once the familiar shuffling in her bathroom awoke her. She remained on her side, hands tucked under her pillow as the scent of her body wash wafted over her from underneath the bathroom door.

 

She’s left a bar of soap in there for him to use, but he seems to prefer her things best, a fact she will never tell him she secretly loves.

 

She’s halfway between awake and asleep and her eyes drift slowly shut at the exact moment John steps out of the bathroom, careful to turn the light off and shut the door behind him before padding barefoot towards her bed, watching the back of her head as he dries the remaining droplets from his chest and then proceeds to climb in under the covers behind her.

 

He touches her hip first, his fingers kneading it gently as he scoots close enough to press his chest against her back and then wraps his arm around her waist, his hand slipping underneath her midsection so she’s pressed firmly to him, more of a shield than a cuddle, until he nuzzles her neck and kisses her shoulder through the worn cotton of her tee shirt.

 

“Good morning, wonder boy.”

 

There’s a low, rolling grunt before he shifts his body and finally molds his taller frame perfectly to hers.

 

He really hates it when she calls him that.

 

“How was work, honey?” She mockingly asks, followed by a groggy little chuckle that makes his chest tighten and his lips quirk up into a grin.

 

“Dirty. How’s recovery going?” His hand is snaking up her shirt as he inquires, the pads of his fingers skimming along sporadic scars, old and new, coming to rest upon one just above her heart.

 

“Boring,” she says, holding her own hand on top of his over her shirt.

 

For a moment, the same thought bounces between them, the what-ifs becoming all too consuming these days.

 

Joss turns her head to face him, offering a smile that mirrors his. She’s reassuring him that she’s alive and he’s doing his best to keep it together and not show just how deep his fear of losing her runs.

 

“One more week to go, Detective.”

 

“I know, I know.”

 

“How’s this one feeling?” He circles the tiny little scar, slowly so that the ridges pass precisely under his touch.

 

She shifts and lays flat on her back where she can get a good look at him. He looks tired. The shadows on his face run long and the worry in his eyes break her heart.

 

“I’m okay, John.”

 

“I know. Just checking.” He kisses her then, softly, the way he kissed her that night in the morgue, except now, when he starts to pull away, she makes a keening sound that requests another, slightly more intimate kiss, which he gives freely and gladly, his tongue briefly touching hers, he tugs at her bottom lip with his teeth before dropping another gentle peck upon it.

 

He’s palming her breasts now, slowly, and leisurely, watching his hand pull and stretch the fabric of her shirt. He alternates between one then the other, between caressing and groping. She grunts softly when he swipes a thumb across her right nipple. He smiles down at her chest, continuing his ministrations even as, out the corner of his eye, he spots the oversized bouquet of magnolias sitting on the dresser by the window.

 

“Who sent those?”

 

“Hmm? The flowers? Shaw brought them over.”

 

“Shaw? _Flowers_? Wow, she’s got it bad.”

 

“Be quiet,” she scolds, furrows deeper into the mattress and lifts a hand to touch his face, thumb sliding over the deep hollow of his cheek before gliding her palm over his shoulder to graze along a new bruise about the size of a quarter. “What’s this?”

 

“Ran into a door,” he jokes, hating the way her eyes sadden instantly. He attempts to kiss the worry away, pecking her lips tenderly, then one cheek, and the other followed by her chin, the corners of her mouth which in turn, form a smile. “None of that,” he says as he shifts to hover over her.

 

She cradles him between her legs and links her hands behind his neck to bring him closer for another kiss, a deeper kiss now that she’s fully awake. The mattress sinks under his weight where his hands prop up the upper half of his body when her tongue finds his. He groans at that, driving his hips down against her.

 

She slips her hands from his neck, down his chest and up his back, her fingers pressing firmly against the taut muscles of his shoulders as she exhales against his cheek. A hot puff of air as a hand finds its way up her shirt again, briefly, and then he’s kneeling between her legs, both hands under the flimsy cotton, pushing it up, his mouth trailing hotly behind.

 

She squirms a little when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot beneath her ribcage. For a second he hears her chuckle and then sigh. He smiles against her belly, tonguing the scar her son’s birth left behind for a moment before she sits up and he meets her in another searing kiss that breaks only when she swiftly pulls her shirt up over her head and discards it somewhere across the room.

 

He grabs two handfuls of Carter and pulls her astride him. Her arms circle his neck instantly, her lips pulling back as he lunges forward. She laughs when he playfully swats her ass, rewarding him with a hard grind down, to which he responds with a deep groan before leaning in again, this time succeeding in distracting her long enough to snap her underwear off with two tugs.

 

“You gotta stop doing that,” she snaps with a pant that dissolves into a moan when he kisses up her neck and slips a hand between her legs where he can slide his middle finger swiftly inside her, drawing a gasp and pleased groan when he circles her clit, once, and again. “If I’d have known sleeping with you would seriously lower my underwear count, I never would have done it.”

 

“So stop wearing underwear.”

 

And then he’s inside her.

 

They’re still for a moment.

 

They’re still getting used to that, neither is sure it will ever get old.

 

She shifts her hips very slowly; her fingers gently fisted in his hair as he braces her hips, his own jutting forward to meet her leisured pace. Her breath is heavy, her skin is coated in gossebumps and her eyes drift shift, clear signs of her approaching release.

 

He lowers his head, takes one hard pebbled nipple into his mouth and she holds him there, pulling his hair a little as she strains to keep the cadence of her thrusts.

 

She’s slick and pulsating around him, squeezing and releasing in the most excruciatingly delightful way. He groans against her breast, greedily sucking and biting until she’s swiveling and thrusting harder against him, grinding her hips, hard, grunting. He shuts his eyes and right before he loses himself in thoughts of losing her, she finds his lips and him in effect, grounding him in the reality that is their life.

 

She knows what she’s gotten herself into with him, and she knows he blames himself on most days, especially now that they’ve crossed this line, but she also knows he sees an equal in her, and that’s perhaps the scariest part of it all.

 

For them both.

 

At least before he kissed her, they could tell themselves it was all part of the job, that at least they never crossed that line. They’d been lying but at least they wouldn’t know _this_.

 

She clings to him when she comes, his name on her lips before he follows, her name upon his as he holds her close, kissing her shoulder and then burying his face in the crook of her neck as they settle.

 

She holds him close long after, breathing easily, feeling the bad thoughts drift away from them as a settling calm, the closest thing to normal they’ll ever have, falls swiftly over them.

 

“You hungry?” She asks with a kiss upon his shoulder before pulling back to look at him.

 

He tiredly smiles back at her, “Picked up a steak with Shaw before I came here.”

 

She traces his hairline with the tips of her fingers. She loves the way the tension drains from his brow in these moments; she loves that she can do that for him.

 

“Some sleep would be good, though.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

They settle under the covers, Joss draped over him as he holds her close, pressing his lips and nose to her hair.

 

They don’t get to sleep together often, but when they do, they cling to one another. They figure they’ll put the memory of Simmons behind them eventually, but until then, clinging didn’t seem like such a bad habit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have just joined this fandom, I'm in love with Joss Carter and I'm still not over her death, so. I'm just giving myself some closure.


End file.
